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Breakfast with Jacinda

The sixth of February is Waitangi day – a national holiday and a celebration of the Treaty of Waitangi (Te Tiriti o Waitangi), the founding document of Aotearoa New Zealand. This year, we had the privilege of attending a dawn service at the Treaty Grounds in Waitangi – as the sky slowly brightened and the sun rose over the Bay of Islands. We joined others in reflecting on the country’s history and its ongoing journey to truly embrace the unity, justice and hope enshrined in the treaty.

After the service, we (along with a few thousand others) were treated to a wonderful outdoor breakfast of bacon, sausage, eggs and hash browns graciously served by Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern and several of her fellow Ministers.

It was a wonderful, simple and genuine gesture that, for me, somehow embraced the spirit of that treaty, and the character and integrity of this national leader. There was something very human and natural about her smile as she dished out dollops of scrambled eggs that seemed totally in keeping with the genuine commitment we’d heard in her voice earlier in the week as she spoke at a Powhiri (traditional Maori welcome ceremony) on the same spot.

Seeing and hearing Jacinda in person has confirmed to me that she is a true leader: someone who is prepared to listen; who readily acknowledges that she hasn’t got everything right, but is determined to do her best; who sincerely wants to be held to account by those who have been marginalised or discriminated against.

Today, I have been reflecting on the Beatitudes – the qualities of character espoused by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. One translation of the Aramaic word, ‘blessed’ used by Jesus is ‘ripe’:

Ripe are those who find their home in the Spirit;

they shall be attuned to the inner reign of God.

Ripe are those who mourn for people who are suffering;

they shall be united inside by love.

Ripe are the gentle;

they shall be open to receive strength from the earth.

Ripe are those who hunger and thirst for justice;

they shall be encircled by the birth of a new society.

Ripe are the compassionate;

upon them shall be compassion.

Ripe are those who are consistent in heart;

they shall contemplate God.

Ripe are those who plant peace in each season;

they shall be named the children of God.

Ripe are those who are persecuted for the sake of justice;

the reign of God is in them.”[1]

This concept captures something of maturity, fullness, wholeness and goodness, a sense of having reached a stage of the fullness of the person I am meant to be. And above, all of nourishment – those who are ‘blessed’, ‘ripe’ bring nourishment and goodness to others. The qualities of the Beatitudes: meekness, poverty of spirit, gentleness, grieving, are not what we typically expect of our politicians. But when we do see them, they are truly nourishing.

[1] This version of the Beatitudes is taken from a translation from the Aramaic text of the New Testament by Dr Patricia Fresen. A fuller exposition of this can be found at https://bridgetmarys.blogspot.com/2017/02/the-beatitudes-as-translated-from.html

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Two Weeks in Quarantine: Day Fourteen

Yes – it has really happened. Today is day 14 of our quarantine. We have had our final checks, and now we are free to leave – to walk out of the hotel and go free. Without any of the restrictions of the past two weeks, or even those of the past 8½ months.

New Zealand is Covid-free. And – apart from its closed borders – life here is carrying on as normal.

Not so, sadly, in the UK which – as the vaccine is slowly rolled out – continues with its tiered restrictions. And, even when a majority of the population has been vaccinated, life will be very different, and certainly not a return to normal as we have known it.

For Lois and I these restrictions have hardly been more than a minor inconvenience, and I am – once again – aware of how privileged and blessed we are.

For so many people that is not the case. There are so many for whom the pandemic and the lockdown restrictions have brought, and continue to bring, hardship – bereavement, loneliness, loss of their livelihoods; financial struggles, anxiety and stress.

And so, as we walk out of our quarantine hotel, my prayer is – for all whose lives continue to be affected by the pandemic, the advent prayer:

‘The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;

On those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.’

May it be so.

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Two Weeks in Quarantine: Day Nine

In its news bulletin this morning, Radio New Zealand reported on a WHO spokesperson commending New Zealand’s response to the pandemic as ‘an example of a country that has worked well with a community to effectively communicate what is being done.’

“In New Zealand there was a lot of clarity about what was expected and why things were going to be done and that’s extremely important, that people understand what’s going to happen and why it’s going to happen.”

Now, New Zealand is unique: relatively isolated from the rest of the world and with a small population, it hasn’t had nearly the same challenges as the USA, the UK and other countries in Europe.

Nevertheless, I have been totally impressed with the way the country has managed its response to the pandemic: a huge contrast to the shambles of our own government’s response.

True to her leadership style, Jacinda Ardern responded promptly and decisively to the pandemic, with both empathy and humility. She appeared to listen to both the scientists and ordinary people and the approach they took clearly prioritised the life and well-being of New Zealand’s citizens above the economy or any political considerations.

Right from the start, New Zealand introduced a system of four alert levels – each with clear criteria for the underlying risk assessments and the management strategies to be implemented at each level. The messaging was clear, consistent and unambiguous, and didn’t keep changing as the pandemic unfolded. As a result, people knew where they stood, what was expected of them and why, and they responded accordingly.

Since arriving in New Zealand and experiencing first hand their approach to managed isolation/quarantine, we have been even more aware of how effective and efficient the measures are. As new arrivals we have been treated with respect and kept informed. The messages we have received about social distancing and protective measures have been clear and simple; their test and trace system has worked effectively, with clear communications once it was discovered that someone on our flight had tested positive; the armed forces, drafted in to supervise and manage the isolation facilities have done their job well and with grace.

And, most of all, we know that we can look forward, in just a few days’ time, to living a life unconstrained by the threat of second waves, repeated lockdowns, or muddled and contradictory advice.

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Two Weeks in Quarantine: Day Six

Someone on our flight has tested positive.

So now we are confined to our room until another swab has shown us to be negative (our own day three swabs came back clear; they re-swabbed us this morning following the positive test on our co-traveller).

No more exercise down on the pool deck, nor even at the entrance lobby area. No more barista coffees (fortunately though Lois’ granddaughter Abi had delivered a cafetiere and some ground coffee so we can still have our mid-morning cup of coffee).

This morning, deprived of my four thousand nine hundred and twenty (or so) paces round the deck, I was obliged to join Lois in her Pilates.

I’m not sure why so many people put themselves through that so regularly. It is certainly neither relaxing nor fun.

Since we will be in the same position tomorrow, I will subject myself to such penance as the only way of getting a daily dose of exercise.

But I will look forward to being able to walk gently round and round the pool deck again.

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Two Weeks in Quarantine: Day Three

Today, being Advent Sunday, Lois and I decided to break our not-so-long-established routine and mark it by joining a virtual day retreat from Los Olivos in Spain.

The day itself was grey and wet (at least until mid-afternoon) and being trapped in our quarantine room there was little to distract us from our quiet contemplation.

At least that was the case up until about 11am when the peace was broken by Santa Claus floating down the Mayoral Drive right outside our hotel, to the sound of brass band playing Jingle Bells (slightly incongruous in the warm summer rain) and followed by a giant inflatable Peppa Pig, Thomas the Tank Engine, dancers, elves, bag-pipes and the entire ensemble of the Auckland Christmas parade.

Still, apart from that interruption (and another to go down and have our day 3 Covid swabs), the day was peaceful and inspiring. Daniel Muñoz, the retreat guide, led us through reflections on images of Christ (Imago Christi) as portrayed in historical and contemporary art.

I reflected on how so many of the historical images of Jesus portray him as a handsome, fair-haired westerner, and have created an image which I now find unhelpful and misleading. On the one hand portraying a non-threatening, impotent focus of adoration; separate, somewhat ethereal, content to receive our worship without changing anything. And on the other hand, a figure head for white supremacy – the God in human form – white, male, self-assured.

What a far cry from the Jesus I see portrayed in the gospels.

So here, drawing on more contemporary portrayals of Jesus, are some of the images I reflected on today and which have made me stop and think about who Jesus really is:

A multi-cultural Jesus – meeting people where they are, as they are. Ordinary, human, earthy.

Jesus the pain-bearer – getting alongside those who are suffering; suffering with them. And somehow, through that, transforming our pain.

Jesus Christ the subversive revolutionary – challenging the powers and structures of our world; confronting injustice, oppression, violence and greed.

Jesus the liberator, the life-giver – loving life; laughing, loving, living; setting people free; leading us on to God’s new creation.

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Two Weeks in Quarantine: Day 1 (again)

I realised, after posting yesterday’s blog, that I’d got it wrong, and we were actually still on day zero. The New Zealand quarantine regulations stipulate that those entering the country must spend a minimum of 336 hours in managed isolation – which might conjure up an image of all those troops of corona viruses carefully synchronising their watches before setting out to invade an unsuspecting traveller: 336 hours; 20,160 minutes; 1,209,600 seconds.

With that in mind, the earliest we will be allowed to leave this hotel will be 12.20pm on Thursday 10th December, exactly 336 hours after our flight – EK448 – touched down at Auckland international airport.

The flight itself had been remarkably comfortable, even if rather long. New Zealand is a long way from the UK, so it always takes a long time. And this time it seemed longer than usual, given an 8-hour stop over in Dubai and a further brief stopover in Kuala Lumpur. Checking in at Birmingham airport was a strange experience – never have I seen the airport so empty, and once checked in, we whisked through security to wait for our flight.

The first two legs had been daytime flights, and I took the opportunity to read, in its entirety, a book on safeguarding in the Church of England for my PhD. That, and two inspiring but challenging films: Harriet – the true story of Harriet Tubman, an escaped slave who went on to rescue dozens of slaves, leading them to freedom along the underground railroad in 19th century USA; and Ken Loach’s latest film – Sorry We Missed You – a harrowing story of a family struggling with the gig economy. The reality of life for so many families living on the edge, and now made worse by the pandemic and lockdown, is something that is hard to face.

Once again, I have been left with that unanswerable question – why am I so privileged while others have to live with such inequity?

The last stretch of our journey was a night flight, and I lowered the tone somewhat by watching Charlie’s Angels, for a bit of mindless escapism. With a nearly empty plane, Lois and I were both able to stretch out on two separate rows of seats for as good a sleep as one can possibly expect on a flight. This pandemic may not be good for the airline industry, but it does make for more comfortable flying.

So here we are, properly completing day one of our quarantine. Refreshed by a good night’s sleep. Engaged by a day of reading, writing and a little bit of arithmetic thrown in. 28 hours down. Only another 308 to go. 😊

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Two Weeks in Quarantine: Day 1

So, after 39 hours’ travelling, we have arrived in New Zealand and are lodged in the hotel room that will be our sole living space for the next two weeks.

Getting here in these times of Covid has not been straightforward. Having avoided the worst of the pandemic, New Zealand Aotearoa is keen to stay that way, so is only allowing New Zealand citizens into the country – and, fortunately for me, their spouses. To board a flight you are required to have a managed isolation certificate from the NZ government specifying the date of arrival and flight number.

We set our dates, booked our quarantine and our flights – with Lufthansa, via Zurich and Hong Kong. Within 24 hours they’d cancelled the flight to Zurich, and with no alternative we had to rebook – this time with British Airways/Cathay Pacific via Hong Kong. Two weeks before we were due to travel, they, too, cancelled the first leg of the flight. So, after a bit more scrabbling around we found new flights with Emirates, via Dubai. The only problem being that our managed isolation certificate still showed the old Cathay Pacific flight number.

And there was a glitch in the system. New Zealand immigration told us they couldn’t change the flight number and that we just had to persuade the airline to let us on board and all would be well once we arrived on Kiwi soil. Emirates, meanwhile, were adamant they wouldn’t let us board without the correct flight number on the certificate.

Less than 24 hours before we were due to leave, the NZ authorities fixed the glitch and we got our updated certificate. So, armed with that, our passports and marriage certificate (which proved essential for proving my legitimacy to enter the country), we finally boarded our flight.

And here we are – tired, isolated, and very pleased to be here.

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One does not simply walk into Mordor

 

‘One does not simply walk into Mordor… It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash, and dust…’ – Boromir, Lord of the Rings

 

 

Sadly, Lois and I had to take heed of Boromir’s words. A nasty chest infection, picked up in Laos, meant that we had to cancel our planned four day tramp around Ngaurohoe (Mt Doom) with Abi, Isaac, and Isaac’s parents.

It had all started ten days previously while we were staying with Trim and Konnie and their children in Vientiane. First Alex, then Lois, Finn and Sienna, then Konnie and I, and finally Trim, all started toppling, like dominoes, with various combinations of cough, fever, rigors, neck stiffness, and general aches and pains. We had planned to spend a nice weekend together at a lake resort north of the capital, but when it came to it, none of us felt like doing anything other than lying prostrate on our beds or the sofa. We struggled through a week before Lois and I boarded a plane for one of the most uncomfortable journeys we have ever experienced: 24 hours feeling cramped, uncomfortable and drained of all energy.

It’s funny how feeling unwell can so dominate life: when with each cough, it seems as though every bone in your body, every muscle, every patch of skin is screaming at you, ‘Get it out!’ When to even read, let alone be sociable, write emails, or make decisions, becomes more than you can face. When you can’t think of anyone or anything else, but just how awful you are feeling.

So, I don’t think we were particularly good company when we got to Auckland – either for each other, or for David and Paddy with whom we were staying, or the grandchildren who had been so longing to see us!

Still, while such illnesses may drag on, they do not last indefinitely. Gradually, after a couple of weeks feeling at rock bottom, the fevers subsided, the neck stiffness eased, and the coughs became less all-pervasive. And we began again to appreciate the many blessings of life – to recognise, with gratitude, how incredibly healthy we have both been; and to gain a greater sense of empathy with those for whom chronic pain or illness is a daily part of life.

We had ducked out of the four day Northern Circuit, but after a further 24 hours recuperating in Auckland, we decided to head south to the National Park, checking into a cheap, but convenient motel in Tokanuu on the shores of Lake Taupo.

By Thursday, I was feeling well enough to do a one day tramp. We drove up to the Magetepopo car park (a bit higher than the summit of Snowdon which we’d climbed earlier in the year), and – along with countless other trampers – Lois and I set out on the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. Lois joined me for the first 5km up to the Soda Springs then headed back to the car and a more restful day while I started the steep ascent to the Tongariro craters. The North Island Alpine scenery is really quite staggering: steep volcanic slopes, broad, ash-covered craters, rugged ridges and outcrops of rock.

After the first steep ascent to the South Crater, the vegetation grew increasingly sparse, but even right up at the top, it was incredible how small yellow and white alpine flowers could bloom into life among the barren, lifeless rock. As each successive ridge appeared above me I thought that surely would be the last, only to have my illusions shattered as I recognised the figures of fellow trampers ascending the next ridge above. Eventually, however, I got to the summit of the Red Crater at 1,886m. This was followed by a treacherous scramble down the scoria slopes to the stunning Emerald Lakes. My knees were feeling it by then, but at the same time, I was revelling in the overwhelming sense of being truly alive. The views were amazing. For most of the day, Ngaurahoe was shrouded in cloud, but at one point, I did catch a passing glimpse of its cratered summit.

 

Bypassing most of the hordes, I made my way to the furthest of the Emerald Lakes where I sat and enjoyed my sandwiches, taking in the rich, vibrant colours of the water and the rocks. A final short climb brought me up to the larger Blue Lake, by now almost completely in the clouds, but still beautiful and mysterious. And then a long, but pleasingly gentle 8km tramp down the lower slopes of Tongariro to the Ketetahi car park, where Lois was waiting to take me back to our motel and a relaxing soak in their thermal pool.

The following day, after a short walk towards the Silica Rapids, we set out from Whakapapa anti-clockwise to meet the others as they finished their four day tramp: tired and aching, but with a huge sense of achievement. One doesn’t simply walk into Mordor after all.